Comer man recalls a life lived in stages

Posted: Wednesday, March 14, 2007

J. Polk Gholston is the son of a man who made Comer famous for its production of cotton in the early to mid 20th century. Cotton was once king in the South. Today, it's barely a memory, but Gholston hasn't forgotten his heritage or those who made it the cash crop that sustained most farming operations in those days.

On a recent February day at his home in downtown Comer, the 91-year-old man relaxed on a sofa in the study, where the fire place mantle and door frames came from a now demolished antebellum home.

"When I married, my Dad gave me this home. It was not built. He and myself figured it out and got a man to build it," he said. The wood trim in this room was made by some unknown slave, said Gholston, who appreciates its fine craftsmanship. Gholston's father, John William Gholston, owned a tract of land near Crawfordville in Taliaferro County, where the young Gholston loved to bird hunt. An old house was falling in and his father told him it was too far gone to save.

"I said 'one of these days I'm going to get married and I sure would love to have that (mantle) in my house," he remembers telling his father. And true to his word, he returned with one of his father's farm workers and removed the mantle and other pieces of crafted woodwork.

Back in the early 20th century, John Gholston and his brother, Knox Gholston, owned huge tracts of land, which they farmed with 200 mules and twice that many field hands. Today, Gholston can't remember how much land his father and uncle owned. But they also owned cotton warehouses, three cotton gins, a cotton seed oil mill, a hardware store and other enterprises. And Polk Gholston, who was named after his grandfather, was their only surviving child. But he was the son of a keen businessman and strict disciplinarian, who made sure that having money didn't make the young boy lazy.

When Gholston came home from elementary school, he had to go to his father's hardware store and sweep the floors, then go home and build fires in the fireplaces. Then he had to do his school work before he could eat supper.

"That was my rules and regulations," he said. "He didn't want me to be spoiled. Everybody would say, 'Well, Polk's got it made. His daddy and uncle are doing this and he gets whatever he wants.' But they didn't know the half of it."

When he reached 13 years old, he was called before his father, who although deaf could read lips, and was told to pack his belongings. "I said, 'Dad are we going on a trip? He said, 'No, you are,' " Gholston said. "He said you're going to a military school for four years and I better not catch you in Comer, Georgia, without (it being) your birthday or a holiday."

So Gholston completed his education at Riverside Military Academy in Gainesville.

Gholston had a military commission and when World War II arrived, he went to Fort Jackson Army Base in South Carolina for training, then back to Comer to await orders. By this time, he already was married to Evelyn Jones of Atlanta. His father, who owned half of the Ford dealership in Comer, had him work there and told him, "If I see that you are sticking with it I'm going to give you my half of the motor company."

He knew if he didn't work hard his father wouldn't give him anything. He eventually received his share of the dealership, but later sold it to Pinkney Martin, who owned the other half.

Before going to Europe for the war, he made first lieutenant and was one of four officers ordered to train black soldiers for the war at a base in Alabama. After he went to England, he was transferred from the First Army to the Third Army and into Gen. George Patton's outfit. His unit went across the English channel one day after the D-Day invasion.

"It was pitiful," he recalled about the beach. "Dead bodies everywhere."

At Nuremberg, Germany, he remembered going to a building run by the Gestapo and seeing a dead German officer laying on a desk. As they checked the scene, he heard a woman's screams coming from the basement.

"I told them to check the steps. I wanted to make sure we didn't get blowed up with a bobby trap," he said. "There were seven women in there and just one was still living. They were starving to death. She couldn't speak English. She was German."

They couldn't open the cell, but encouraged her to climb to an opening between the bars above the cell door, where they were able to pull her skinny body through.

"She fell down on her knees, grabbed me around the knees and cried. We sent her to the Red Cross," he said. Back up in the office with the dead officer, Gholston found several large denomination bills of German money. He gave most to a sergeant, but kept one, which still is encased and hangs on the wall of his home.

Two weeks before the war would be over, Gholston said the officers had a meeting in the woods, when an artillery shell exploded near them. He doesn't remember anything until he awoke in a hospital with back injuries. He also was unable to see or hear.

"Thank goodness my eyesight came back first and then my hearing. I'm just glad I survived." He went from hospital to hospital, but gave instructions that no one was to tell his parents or wife that he was injured. He made it back to New York and his wife drove from Atlanta to bring him back to Georgia.

Gholston settled in Comer, where he recalled a meeting with his father and uncle, where he learned they and uncle were going to take part of his inheritance and build and furnish a school in Comer.

"I didn't say anything. I just listened. I knew better than to interrupt my dad or uncle," he said with a laugh. "Daddy looked at my uncle and said he hasn't said anything. I said, 'You've already said it. I ain't got a thing to say.' And that's the way it went."

The Gholstons built a new school in Comer, which to this day still exists. Gholston's mother, Mattie Belle Gholston, enjoyed music and made sure the new school had a music room.

Gholston, whose father died in 1953 and mother in 1978, made a career of selling the Gholston property.

"I kept selling it off one tract at a time and it's kept me a long time and a lot of work," he said, adding that he sold his last large tract of about 400 acres to retired University of Georgia football coach Vince Dooley.

While he hunted on most of the land his father and uncle owned, he also traveled to distance locales to hunt.

Among the trophies on his walls are a grizzly and Kodiak bear. He shot the grizzly in Wyoming with help from an Indian guide.

"He could track them. I don't know how, but he did," he said. The guide tracked the bear one full day, then returned the next before locating it on a hillside. The bear made a loud "whop" sound indicating it knew something was in the area.

"That rascal stood on his hind legs on that hill looking down. He ran down the hill a little bit and slammed on his brakes and stood up again. He started waving his head like a pendulum and the guide said that while he's doing that, he's getting our scent."

Then the bear charged. "I took my time and the guide is hollering 'shoot 'em, shoot 'em,' I (waited) till he slowed up a little and the minute he slowed up I popped him. I shot him in the shoulder and it didn't even knock him off his feet. I shot him again in the chest and I made another shot for what I thought was his heart and I got him."

Later when hunting the Kodiak in the Yukon of Canada, he didn't delay getting his shot off.

Today, Gholston still enjoys some outdoor activities in his yard. He attends the Masters in Augusta every year and a pastime is painting. He paints scenes of the outdoors from this Southern roots to the West. His first wife died in 1990 and he and his second wife, Eula, have been married for 14 years.

"He doesn't look 91 does he," his wife said in a teasing manner. "Look at that face."

Gholston laughed, but at 91 he has seen most of his friends pass on.

"I used to know everybody in Comer and now I know very few of them," he said. "Of the fellows I grew up with, one of them is on his death bed, "Boots" Birchmore in Athens."

Two days after the interview, Birchmore died in Athens and was buried in Comer, the town the two friends spent their youth many years ago.